


Geralt wishes away Jaskier

by Kaerith



Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [11]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Be Careful What You Wish For, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith
Summary: When Jaskier heard that Valdo Marx was accompanying Geralt, he laughed. The bastard had certainly earned it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791685
Comments: 4
Kudos: 171
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development, Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	Geralt wishes away Jaskier

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Penance Geralt wishes away Jaskier - welcome Valdo Marx](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=498349#cmt498349)

The bard's playing is repetitive. He only seems to know maybe three different chords and he repeats them over and over. His lyrics are a rigid structure of five syllables per line, and he sings them over and over trying out different emphases in a grating voice: "A wit- _cher_ there was. A _witch_ -er there was. There was a wit-cher. ...Witcher, pitcher, snitcher?"

Geralt wanted to yell at him, but the man had a long nose that just made his face look like a horse when he sneered. He would just complain about Geralt's "creepy" eyes and "cadaverous" complexion again.

"Witcher, surely we can turn north now?"

"Go ahead," Geralt grunts.

"I am sure that the Vegelbuds have their estate just a few miles up that road. They tend to have a gala around this time-"

Geralt interrupts his prattling with a fist in his pompous, inbred face, but his fist just glances off the man like there is a magic barrier in the way.

The Bard is startled, but regains his smirk the moment Geralt turns away from him. Geralt can fucking hear his wet lips suck away from his crooked, horsey teeth. "The head witch-hunters in both Novigrad and Oxenfurt are _dear friends_ of mine, mutant. Do you know what they would do to you if I told them that you had assaulted me?"

"The same thing they'd do to me if they just saw my face in their cities," Geralt mutters to himself.

Geralt can't hurt the man and apparently he won't leave of his own accord. Neither or them are happy, and even Roach had gotten stroppy and roughened her gait earlier so Geralt has no choice but to walk if he wanted to save his ass.

"A _witch_ -er there was, so _ug_ -ly of mug... A witch-er there was, with fangs and a scowl... his mouth in a scowl... in a frown.... No, no, start over. Something new. Don't call him a _friend_ , a witcher eats _men_. _Don't_ call him a friend, a _witch_ -er eats men...."

* * *

"You are not my friend, Jaskier!"

"Fine! But you can't deny I'm your bard, Geralt! And, as your bard-"

"I wish you weren't my bard!"

A rush of wind, and a stranger stood where Jaskier had been: shorter, with beady eyes and a enormous nose. His clothes were even more garish, and his hat was something created by a quicksilver-addled milliner that would only be purchased by a fop inflicted with lunacy.

"Geralt of Rivia," the man sneered, scrutinizing him and wrinkling his nose at his unspoken verdict. "Jaskier always did let his imagination run too wild. Let me write some songs with the truth about you, for once."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Do not address your betters with that tone, beast! I am Valdo Marx, but of course an uncultured sellsword like you wouldn't recognize the best bard on the Continent."

* * *

When Jaskier heard that Valdo Marx was accompanying Geralt, he laughed. The bastard had certainly earned it.

* * *

The bard had snubbed the innkeeper's question if they were going to share a room. "I am sure even an... establishment such as yours shall provide music lovers with generous hearts," Marx had said snidely. "Save your best room, for I shall give you the coin for it after my performance."

Geralt had bought an ale so he could sit in a corner and smirk into it as Marx's superficial charm wore thin within the first two lines of his first song.

"Toss A Coin!" One patron shouted, sparking a chorus of agreement. Marx tried to hide his disgusted expression with a bow, but his envy for Jaskier and hatred for this situation smelled like turned milk to the witcher.

Marx began the requested song obediently, but it was a truly lackluster performance with his gritted jaw and limited talents. There was only a smattering of coughs when he finished to break the sullen silence.

"Certainly you will enjoy one of my own compositions much more!" The bard said, before he broke into one of those trite, emotionless songs Geralt had heard, this one praising the beauty of a "love-e-ly lady, with pay-el-est skin"-- that man would rather stretch his syllables into nonsense than deviate from his single lyrical model.

* * *

It was another wish, Jaskier assumes. How else could he have been halfway through Velen and then in Novigrad in the next moment? Apparently, Valdo Marx was the bard accompanying the White Wolf now, and Jaskier had written a few songs then come west on his own.

Apparently, whatever granted Geralt's wish of "I wish you weren't my bard" had decided to swap Jaskier with Marx. If Marx had any talent Jaskier might be concerned, but he decided they deserved the misery they would give each other. Though he suspected Geralt would soon be on his own again at Marx's first tantrum.

* * *

Marx begged for Geralt to give him his room, then begged to take the bed while Geralt slept on the floor, then begged to share the bed, then begged for himself to sleep on the floor when his previous requests didn't bear any response. He had to huddle by the hearth for the chilly night and hardly caught a wink even after so much walking.

* * *

The harsh trials of Valdo Marx were updated at least once a day as his acquaintances in Novigrad received letters from the man getting more and more desperate as he begged his patrons for money, a carriage, horses, and then a mage to "sever this demon-made bond" with the "violently uncouth savage." As more than a week passed, even Jaskier's satisfaction wore thin as he heard Marx's episodic epistolaries turn less and less polished and coherent in his distress.

Geralt must really be suffering, Jaskier thought, and it finally brought him less amusement than pity.

* * *

Jaskier was waiting for them at a crossroads that was on the map mainly for its inn than for any other reasons. He had brought a mage that he was on friendly terms with.

Marx still wore his hat, though it was a drooping and sad affair with most of its feathers broken or lost. The bard's face actually lit up with hope when he saw Jaskier already playing for the crowd. Jaskier caught his friend's attention and nodded toward Marx and the two went outside, presumably so the mage could examine the bond between them.

Half an hour later they slunk in, a trio of vastly different expressions. The mage was had a small smile (he wasn't a fan of Marx and enjoyed giving them the bad news), Marx himself was scowling with fatigue and resentment, and Geralt had a spark of relief when his eyes met Jaskier's.

Jaskier kept up his performance for another two hours before he finally raked up his earnings and joined them.

"Have your travels been as inspiring as you told me they would be?" He asks his rival, knowing the answer already, of course.

Marx makes a face. "This boor makes you look like a man of class and distinction. I have learned how full of lies your songs are. Your 'noble, magnificent wolf' is an ugly, smelly vagrant who whores himself out as pest control."

Jaskier tuts and shakes his head. "What a wasted opportunity for you. Can the bond be broken?" He moved on to the mage.

"I can only transfer the spell's focus," he says. "Would you like to be stuck with the witcher again? You'll be effectively immortal until you both are killed," he adds.

"Immortal?" Marx perks up and turns to frown at Geralt, obviously weighing his desire for immortality with his disgust for the witcher.

Geralt has also lost his hangdog demeanor and looks at Jaskier with hope.

Jaskier shrugs and drinks his ale. "He doesn't want me around."

He watches the witcher correctly interpret his statement as a test, and the fear of vulnerability in front of strangers wars with his desire to get Jaskier back. The bard doesn't step in to relieve him of this decision; he deserves to spend time with people who can verbally acknowledge him and his friendship.

He does, however, agree to accompany Geralt outside, and hears words that neither of them thought the witcher would ever say, and they return back in agreement that they will resume their friendship and travel together once again.


End file.
